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Herlock had been trying his hardest not to let his sexual drive take the best of him; however, when he was near Susato, he always find himself wishing for something sexy to happen. It was hard for a gentleman of the Victorian age to quench his thirst when girls were raised to be pure angels, and prostitutes could transmit any disease.
Despite abhorring the latter option, things would be much easier for him if he simply paid to have sex. Still, his problem did not lie in money itself, rather in people. Herlock rarely thought highly of someone and that was the very reason why he did not want to engage in any sort of romantic or sexual activity with them. London women did not share a similar cultural background nor were able to be on par with him.
Unlike them, Susato had a love for culture that Herlock had never seen in a woman before. Her curiosity had sparked his interest; and now that something had been sparked inside him, that spark seemed impossible to turn off.
Japanese culture offered plenty ideas for a sexy predicament, and Herlock meant to take advantage of that.
“My dear Susato, I require your assistance in learning more about Japanese culture. Would you be so kind so as to teach me more about the Japanese ofuro?”
Susato was sitting on a cushion in Herlock’s room, playing the koto her father sent her upon request. She wanted the detective to listen to some traditional Japanese music, and so, on that day, she sat on her knees and started playing the stringed instrument for her beloved’s sake.
When she heard his request, the koto produced an awful sound. Silence followed. No, Herlock could swear Susato’s embarrassed glare was yelling Japanese profanities at him. Still, Susato’s reaction was amusing and made him chuckle.
“My, my, there is no need for you to stare daggers at me. Do you wish to see me dead, perchance?”
“No, I would never want to see you dead. The grief would be unbearable,” she said casting her look down and clasping her hands. “Simply seeing you with your back on the floor would be enough, though.”
Herlock chuckled again. He liked that Susato could also show a violent side – a real twist to her yamato nadeshiko persona. Those words uttered with sweet violence were enough to stir something inside of him, which slowly radiated to his groin. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine and without thinking, Herlock’s hand was reaching for the pipe resting on his desk. He brought it to his lips the moment he found it, slightly gnawing the lip.
“Your display of affection proves how deeply you care for me. However, as much as I appreciate such a passionate love, I would rather you really considered the idea of teaching me more about Japanese traditions. Such as the ones involving bath time…”
Herlock made sure to stress the last part of the sentence. He always hid his true intentions behind beautifully crafted sentences, and because of that people were not able to understand him. On the contrary, Susato had proved quite often to be capable of noticing Herlock’s underlying intentions. She could clearly understand what the man implied. Still, right now he felt the need to specify what he was trying to say — or rather, what he was trying to get.
Susato averted her glare from Herlock and cupped a cheek with a hand, letting out a loud sigh. Was she yielding to his request? Herlock doubted it was the case and kept waiting for further evidence. All of a sudden, the girl’s face lit up and she raised an index finger. She seemed to have had an idea. Herlock raised a brow and waited for her to speak.
“Well, it seems natural that you would want to learn more about my country. So please, Mister Sholmes, have a seat next to me.”
Her invitation almost made him smile, before he realised that something felt off about her sudden change of mind. What happened to the embarrassed Susato waiting to throw him with a Susato Squash? Perhaps, could it be that she had really reconsidered his proposal? After all, she was a young woman gradually discovering new types of pleasure and desire. If she felt happy when the detective simply smiled at her, she would be on cloud nine were she to discover the bliss her body could receive by his touch. He would really like to teach her more about it, if she simply gave him the chance.
A pang of anxiety spread in his chest, making him question whether it was safe to seat next to Susato. Eventually, Herlock decided to comply and sat on the wooden floor of his room at some distance from the girl, legs crossed.
“My my, Mister Sholmes, are you afraid that I might hit you, perhaps?” she asked, a giggle curving her lips.
Apparently, his tension was showing on his face: even Susato could see it. Was she able to see the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, too?
“This brilliant detective, scared? It seems that you like telling jests, my dear lady. If you know any other funny stories to entertain me, I shall be happy to hear them. But first, let us continue with the topic at hand.”
Susato kept smiling at him, and Herlock felt as if he was in danger had he said anything to upset her uptight moral. Perhaps, he should seriously consider paying someone for some relief.
… no, on second thought, he would never be able to be intimate with any other woman. He would barely feel any desire. He should simply wait until the girl becomes The Woman.
Susato cleared her throat. “The Japanese culture is rich in tradition. The one involving the furo is just one of them. As some people are falsely led to believe, it is not a mere act of bathing together; in fact, we usually bath on our own. A person enters the ofuro alone and proceeds to soap and wash their body and hair before entering the furoba, the large bathtub. Doing so, people remove any dirt from their body and can thus enter the furoba. This is the most important aspect of the ‘ritual’. After washing away the dirt and the fatigue, one can relax in the hot water of the furoba.”
Herlock nodded at her explanation. Actually, he already knew that much thanks to Mikotoba. When he first moved to Baker Street, the man was shocked to learn that no such thing as the ofuro existed in the British Empire. Too shocked, in fact, that Mikotoba had been complaining about the matter for a couple months. So, even though Susato’s voice was as pleasant as the glissando of a harp to listen to, her explanation was… useless. And it was not what he hoped for.
“Someone’s wrong disbelief,” she continued in a louder voice, “probably stems from the fact that us Japanese often go to the public bathhouse. As the name suggests, it is a public version of a private ofuro. There are large rooms with a large furoba where people can warm themselves and relax in the hot water together with friends, co-workers or whomever you want to be with. It is important to note that a man could never ask a woman to go together to the public bathhouse. You see, there are two separate areas for the two sexes.”
Upon concluding the explanation, Susato glanced at Herlock and smiled again. The man had been silently listening to her. He was not expecting a real lesson on the ofuro… Moreover, her impish smile, which seemed to be taunting him, suggested that she was not going to punish him for the bold request.
“So, how did you like my lesson, Mister Sholmes? I suggest that you try going to the public bathhouse with Mister Naruhodo, someday.”
Herlock burst into a laughter. Oh, that girl was so young, but she had just outsmarted him. She seemed a Japanese version of Iris. If only the women he had met so far had half her wit, he would not be feeling that way for a young lady. If only she allowed her to let her know how much he liked her…!
“Well… I think I shall take up on your offer. I might create a ofuro myself and then invite him.”